Unpredictable
by Endless Prattling
Summary: After six years of avoiding Britain (and the entire continent by extension), Ashley Pembroke had yet to even think of returning. And yet, come the beginning of the year, she is the second-to-newest faculty member at Hogwarts (right after person #2 on her avoidance-for-life list: Albus Potter).
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything...

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

His green eyes glowed with an intense dislike that unnerved Ashley Pembroke. In the last seven years of their schooling together, she had rarely witnessed Albus Potter anything other than calm and collected. Seeing his eyes alight with disdain disconcerted her more than she would like to admit.

She shifted her balance, locking her sudden apprehension behind a carefree façade. Her father taught her that any revealed weakness would be exploited. The dead silence of the several surrounding students was stifling, arising in her mind an exaggerated image of a large crowd imprisoning her in a cage of bodies, forcing her to face the deadly green-eyed predator inside.

She banished the anxiety from her mind, tossing her hair lightly and pasting a vaguely condescending smile on her impassive face. She let loose a soft laugh.

"Don't you think it's a bit hypocritical to lecture me on hiding behind a parent's reputation? I'm not the one who will be perpetually known as the son of the Boy-who-lived. That's your title, Albus darling." He scoffed.

"Right. But I don't use daddy's money to buy my way through life. I've had to do actual work."

"Aw, poor little Albus. He's actually had to work." His growing irritation was palpable. "Welcome to the real world. People actually have to exert effort, not just ride around all day on a stick of wood trying to decapitate people by throwing ridiculously heavy balls at them. " He snorted derisively.

"You accuse me of being hypocritical? You have never had to do anything for yourself. If anything doesn't go your way, daddy comes along and bribes the right person, and poof, everything's perfect again." It was Ashley's turn to be irritated. She was rather sick of people always accusing her father of bribing people. Believe it or not, it was actually possible to succeed with talent alone.

"My father does not deal with bribes. Frankly, your accusations have long since passed into the realm of tiresome" His eyes glittered.

"Doesn't deal in bribes? Ha." His voice fell flat. "What about that mysterious anonymous benefactor who conveniently donated thousands of galleons to that fancy new healing school to which you have been incessantly bragging about being accepted?" He shot her a triumphant look. "We both know that's not a coincidence."

Ashley froze. It wasn't possible… She remembered the College President visiting several times over break, but her father said he was a friend from school. Sure she found it a bit odd that they were holed up behind the thick, oak doors of her father's study for hours, but they were just catching up. And maybe her father had never mentioned him before, but that did not necessarily mean they had not gone to school together. Her stomach sank in disbelief. No.

She mentally shook herself, cursing Potter. She would not believe this. She had worked hard to get accepted to the Byrne Healing School, and she deserved her place. Potter was just a stupid, jealous git. She would not let him invade her mind with his stupid stories.

"What misguided soul did you hear that from?"

"Doesn't matter. It's the true though, isn't it?"

"Of course not." She shot him a haughty glare. "As I said, your accusations have long since passed into the realm of tiresome. I believe we are done here." Even as she maintained her perfect expression of slight disgust, even as she walked away with a confident spring, even as she laughed off the stories of the_ wonderfu_l, perfect Albus Potter's outburst, the sinking pit in her stomach remained. It followed her through graduation, slunk after her home, and eventually prompted her to her father's study, where it dissolved away in a messy tangle to allow room for the much heavier burden of truth.

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

~Six Years Later~

I looked up as the last bell of the day rang, cuing the flood of students from my classroom. We had finished several minutes earlier, and they had been reviewing together for their exam with a surprising amount of calmness considering it was the last week of school. However, once the last bell sounded, pandemonium erupted. Laughter filled the hallways, and students tried to push past each other in their race to escape what they had deemed equivalent to prison. Although considering it was the first nonrainy day in a week, I could not blame them for wanting to escape. The small window next to my desk remained open all day, enticing me with a nice breeze and thoughts of the outdoors.

As soon as I finished inputting the last few assignments in the computer, I would be free too. I sighed longingly and looked at my desk. The stack of papers on my desk stared smugly back at me.

During times like this I almost regretted giving up magic. A quick spell would have allowed me to record the grades in seconds. Alas, I don't think I would be able to convince even my most gullible students that a self-recording grade book was completely natural.

After two tortuous hours of biology papers and physics labs, I decided I had done enough to warrant my freedom. I grabbed my bag and popped into the main office to say goodbye to Cassie.

Cassie Jones was probably one of the best people in the world, and I cannot even begin to say how much I am indebted to her. When I first came to the United States, seventeen, alone, with only a bit of money and even less knowledge about the muggle world, she saved me. She was a squib, and was much more used to the wide-eyed lost look from stupefied wizards than the rest of the muggle population. Consequently, she did not immediately write me off as a nutcase like everyone else.

She helped me to apply to a local college, introduced me to the muggle world, and even got me a job as a science teacher where she worked. She is the assistant principal at Rochester High School, and has managed to completely turn the school around. We live in a relatively poor area, where schooling had a small budget and a smaller priority ranking. She created enthusiasm among the students, and completely altered the atmosphere of the school. Quite simply, she's a miracle worker.

I popped my head into the doorway of her office, unsurprised to see her rapidly plowing through a list of emails at her computer. She glanced up briefly from her work, which was relatively high form of acknowledgement when she was in "secretary-Cassie" mode.

"Heading out?" She called over her computer.

"Yup. Will you be back for dinner? " Whenever possible, we tried to have dinner together on Tuesdays.

"Yeah, I shouldn't be here much longer." I raised my eyebrow skeptically.

"If you say so. Remember dinner's t six-thirty tonight." I waved at her (not that she noticed with her eyes glued to the screen) and left the building.

I pulled my tiny car into the parking lot of my apartment. My flat, like the rest of the town, was largely run-down and dilapidated. I entered the code to the building at went up four flights of stairs to my tiny suite, and then froze in the middle of putting my key into the lock.

Whether from instincts or heightened sensitivity due to years living where pickpocketers and thieves are a real danger, but I could distinctly feel a pair of eyes crawling up my spine.

I whipped around, already gripping the pepper spray in my purse, only to be faced with a slightly graying tabby cat. I sighed at my paranoia. The neighbor's cat occasionally snuck out of the flat across from mine.

I slowly approached the cat, intending on bringing her back to my neighbor, only to freeze again. Around her eyes gleamed the unmistakable markings of spectacles.

"Prof-_Professor_!?" Suddenly a tall, elderly woman appeared in the hallway right where the cat was standing, materializing fast enough that my brain tried to deny that she had been anything else.

"Hello Miss Pembroke." I stared gapping at her, completely unable to fathom a socially-accepted greeting for an old teacher that randomly pops up on one's doorstep after six years of silence. After several increasingly awkward beats, I managed to stumble out a muttered greeting.

"May I have a moment of your time? There is something I wish to discuss with you."

"Er, right then. Come in." After fidgeting with my keys awkwardly for several seconds, I managed to get the door open, letting light shine on my dingy flat. At least this morning I finally decided to wash the stack of dishes that had been piling up for the last week.

"Would you like some tea? Or anything to eat? I think we have some cookies around here." I trailed off, completely unsure of how to respond to the present situation. Tea sounded as good a course as any.

"Tea would be lovely." I filled up the tea pot and stared at it, painfully aware of how muggle I seemed.

"Sorry, I would heat it up with magic, but I don't have my wand with me at the moment."

"Allow me. " She tapped the pot with her wand, and it instantly whistled. It was the first magic I had seen in six years.

Once we were finally seated at the table with our tea, I glanced questioningly at my old Professor, who was ignoring my questioning looks. I attempted to make small talk to give me time to figure out just what she was doing here. How did she even find me? Six years ago I came to the United States, not bothering to leave a contact address for my friends or family. Every once in a while I might remember to send a postcard or a Christmas letter to my brother, but our correspondence was spotty, and he did not even know my exact residence.

So why was she here? What did she need to talk about with _me_? Suddenly, my stomach clenched in realization.

"Is it my brother? Is Callum alright?"

"Your brother is fine, although perhaps suffering from a severe case of neglect from his sister." I snorted at that, relieved. If I was bad at keeping contact, Callum was even worse. Several weeks ago, in the middle of May, I finally received a reply to my Christmas letter. I don't know how he manages to survive as an auror. "I am sure you are curious as to why I am here." Right you are. "To put it simply, I came to offer you a job." I blinked.

"What?"

"I am sure you remember Professor Brown from your days at Hogwarts. She tells me that you took divination with her a year."

"That's right," I said tentatively.

"Due to a family crisis, she will be unable to return this year to teach divination. Unfortunately, we only became aware of these circumstances several days ago, and did not have sufficient time to advertise the position." At my look, still confused look, she sighed and continued. "I remember you had somewhat of a gift with the subject, and I do believe your brother mentioned you teaching at a small school here."

"You…you want me to teach at Hogwarts? You want me to teach _divination_?" Of all the things that she could have wanted to discuss with me, I doubt anything could have surprised me further. Yes, I did have something of an affinity for the subject, but it was not something I publicized at Hogwarts. In truth, I had even taken measures to conceal it.

When my dad insisted I needed some sort of training for my so-called "gift," I opted to take summer classes with a special tutor instead of bearing another year with Professor Brown and her atrociously smelling tower. Very few people knew that I knack for the subject. And I had certainly never told Professor _McGonagall_.

"How did you know?" I asked hesitantly.

"That you have the inner eye?" She spoke the words "inner eye" with a hint of exasperation that distinctly marks a skeptic. "Your brother mentioned it to me. This was his idea, in fact." Callum's?

"Isn't there someone better qualified?"

"Quite frankly, no. The pay is generous, and you have the option of living in the castle, which of course means your meals will also be provided." I thought back to my dismally empty fridge. "You must understand, if you chose to reject my offer, I will have to act with haste to find another suitable candidate. Thus, we need a prompt decision. I can spare you a week to consider the offer." I nodded, still unable to process everything.

"Alright. But I don't want to mislead you, I already have a job here, a life here, and I'm happy." Never mind the fact that my insides exploded into fluttering mush at the thought of returning back _there_. I like my intestines in tact, thank you.

"Even so. Think it over, your answer may surprise you." She finished off the last of her tea, and carefully set the cup down on the table. "I'm afraid that I must be off. Thank you for meeting with me and for the tea. I hope I hear from you soon."

Three hours later, and I was still sitting in the exact same position, staring at my half empty cup of cool tea and mindlessly musing. In the last six years, I had never considered going back. Of course, I did not expect to stay away from Europe forever. I did want to see my brother again, and after six years of scattered letters, I missed him a lot. I just never expected to be presented the opportunity to return so quickly (and yes, six years was much too soon for me).

The very thought of going back there and facing certain people again twisted my stomach, and I knew that if I did go back, I would most certainly be facing them again. My stupid younger self did not have the sense to choose slightly less prominent people to avoid for life. Unfortunately.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, causing me to jump. A lengthy list of other long lost acquaintances flashed through my mind, before I realized it was just Cassie, and not Peeves offering me a job as a the Minister of Magic. I was jolted out of my thoughts by the realization that it was Tuesday, and we were going out to dinner tonight.

"Ashley? You there?" Cassie called from outside the door.

"Sorry, one moment." I hurried over to open the door, revealing an amused looking Cassie.

"Lost in your thoughts again?" It was a fairly often occurrence for me. I let a flicker of a smile pass over my face. She noticed (naturally) my lack of response to her teasing. Her eyes glanced over at me, and then flashed to the two cups on the table. Cassie is scarily observant and intuitive (it comes from working with teenagers for years).

"Had some company while I was gone?" She spoke lightly, obviously trying to not spook me from the subject. I cleared my throat.

"My old Headmistress came to see me."

"From Hogwarts?" I nodded. It was odd to hear here mention magic. I associated her so much with my muggle life, I often forgot that she actually knew about the wizarding world as well. "What did she want?"

"To offer me a job." Cassie had a satisfying shocked face that would have been comical had my world not been exploding. "I'm not going though, don't worry," I reassured her. Her brown eyes poured over me again in her signature soul-searching way, and then nodded.

"Shall we be off then?"

We spent a lovely time together, grabbing a quick dinner and then shopping at some craft stores in the tiny mall near my flat. I had completely forgotten about McGonagall until the very end of the night when we were saying goodbye. Before Cassie left, she turned back to me.

"Don't let your fears hold you back. At some time you will have to face them, and it is better to do them on your conditions." She sent me another mysterious smile, before heading back to her car, while I was once again plunged into a hole of confusion.

Was I letting my fears cloud my judgment? I stayed up until three in the morning pondering this idea, before I finally collapsed from sheer mental exhaustion.

When I work up the next morning,I knew what I had to do.

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/

Authors Note :)

Hello all! Thank you for reading my (hopefully) lovely new story! Not much has happened yet, but it will soon (so don't give up quite yet). Please please tell me what you think :)


	2. Chapter 2

Everything's J.K. Rowlings!

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~

My first action on British land involved my half digested breakfast spilling all over the floor of the Pumpernickel Inn. Floo powder was my least favorite mode of transportation, and it never boded well for my destination. Unfortunately, apparating over the Atlantic resulted in too many cases of lost feet or missing ears, and letting my nerves stew over a long muggle airplane flight would have unfailing caused me a break down (or me booking the next available flight back to the U.S. immediately after arrival). So, by process of elimination, I found myself arranging with the Office of International Transportation to floo. The motherly owner of the tiny inn in Hogsmeade pulled my hair back and steadied me, flicking her wand in the direction of my stomach's former contents.

"Flooing not for you, dearie?" I nodded miserably, sucked in some air, and straightened.

"Thanks, Mrs.-" I trailed off.

"Markey, dearie."

"Right. Thanks Mrs. Markey." Haven successfully assessed myself and decided I was not about to keel over, I sent her a warm smile. "I'm Ashley Pembroke."

"Of course you are, I have your room ready for you upstairs, and your luggage is already there. Now a young man is waiting for you in the lobby. Better go greet him, he's been pacing for the last hour. " She shooed my out of the room, pointing towards the stairs. I felt giddy and light headed at the thought of seeing my brother. I had not seen Callum in six years, and he was the only person I had really missed in the United States.

I spotted him immediately in a faded, floral patterned chair by the fire place. He was tapping his foot and uncrossing and recrossing his arms every few seconds. A wide grin split my face. He hadn't seen me yet, so I surveyed him for a minute. He looked older, more mature. The wavy brown hair we shared curled to his ears, which was a vast improvement from the shoulder-length at which he used to wear it. His skin was tanner, and he appeared to have gained some muscles to offset his toothpick physique.

His face was turned away from me, so I couldn't observe his expression. I cleared my throat, and his head whipped in my direction. He jumped up so quickly that his chair rocketed back a few inches. Within three seconds I was wrapped in a tight hug.

"Ash! Welcome home." I could feel his voice vibrating in his chest, and I felt my eyes water.

"Missed you, Callum." My voice wavered a bit, and he hugged me tighter for a second, and then released me.

"Which is why you are never leaving again. Seriously. I'll hire someone to trail you at all times if I have to."

"I think your boss would have something to say about wasting company resources. But, no worries, I'm back." For now, at least.

Light blue eyes that almost identically mirrored my own bored into me, causing a twinge of guilt to erupt in my stomach. I really had missed him. I craned my beck to look up at his face. He was at least ten inches taller than me, and I was not short.

People always used to exclaim about how similar we looked, much to our chagrin. We tried to deny it, but it was true. We shared the same pointy chin, the same cheekbones, the same wide forehead, and the same thick eyebrows that caused my teenager self so much pain. Looking at his face now made me a little sad. It was almost as familiar as my own, but it had changed so much since the last time I had seen it. There were no obvious differences, but there was a definite feeling of unfamiliarity. He seemed more confident, stronger, and less of the quiet and indecisive older brother I was used to. Then again, from the funny way he was looking at me, it was obvious that I had changed too. And I had.

It wasn't until I had stepped outside of the Pumpernickel Inn and found myself back on the streets of Hogsmeade that it really hit me that I was back. Callum and I decided to go to stop by the Three Broomsticks to catch up. Walking past the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes Joke shop, Honeydukes, even Madame Puddifoot's felt surreal, as I was walking in a pensieve. But despite the unsettlement at the thought of seeing my former classmates, the regret of leaving Cassie, and the fear of failure, it felt a tiny bit good. I knew these streets, and like it or not, it was a part of me.

The bustling noise of the Three Broomsticks washed over me, and I ducked inside. I pushed my way past the clump of elderly witches discussing potting techniques of sneezewort, and dragged Callum to the table furthest away from the entrance. Callum shoot me an amused look.

"I hope you are not seriously planning on avoiding every single person you ever meet in the first seventeen years of your life."

"Who says I'm avoiding anybody?" I was, but I never specifically told him that, or why I left for that matter.

"You disappeared for six years with barely any contact. I think that's a pretty good indicator." I opened my mouth to interrupt, but he held up his hand to stop me. "I won't ask you why you did what you did, I can wait for an explanation. Just don't feed me some ridiculous lie like you did before." When, after at least six months, I finally sent him a letter telling him I was in the United States, I had made some vague excuse about expanding horizons and discovering an international culture. I sent him a disgruntled glare, which he returned with a lopsided smile.

"But you're back now, and I refuse to allow you to hide away in the Divination Tower in some halfbaked attempt to pretend you aren't in the country. So I repeat. You cannot seriously plan to avoid every single person you ever meet in the first seventeen years of your life. " Callum looked satisfied that he had said his speech. He had probably been meticulously mapping out every word since I had told him I was coming back.

"I wasn't going to avoid you. Or McGonagall." I muttered.

"I don't think having your older brother and an aging woman as your sole contacts is a good idea, even if Mcgonagall is rather wise and I am especially charming. Expanding horizons, and all that." I glared at him, and he winked at me.

"I'm not avoiding people, I just want to meet them on my own terms."

"Right." He nodded knowingly. "What do you want to drink? My treat. Call it your homecoming present." I sighed dramatically.

"Six years, and all I get is a measly drink? You see, this is why I left. I'm not loved here."

"Yes, yes, you're a horrid bint. Now what do you want?"

"I'll take a butterbeer." Callum dived into the crowd, pushing his way to the counter. I turned to the crowd. Several charmed rags were washing tables, and a couple wizards were making sparks shoot out of their wands (and receiving glares from the bartender). I hadn't wanted to admit it before, but I missed magic. My own Silver Lime and Phoenix wand was safely tucked in my robes, after having unearthed it from a long forgotten trunk a week ago. It felt odd carrying it again, but it was like greeting an old friend.

I glanced towards the table to my right, and did a double take, convinced I was mistaken. However, the curly red hair was distinctively obvious, and its brightness had not faded in my memories.

Less than three meters next to me sat Rose Weasley, preoccupiedly drinking pumpkin juice and, thankfully, not looking in this direction. I immediately looked to my left, pretending that the wood-paneled wall was incredibly fascinating, and let out a sigh of frustration. I thought I would at least have a days (or weeks) to prepare myself against people like Rose Weasley, but of course I would run into her within an hour of my arrival. With my luck, all the people who I really rather not see probably were holding a reunion in the room across the hall from mine at the Pumpernickel Inn.

The Heavens seemed to take pity on me, however, and Rose Weasley didn't even look over in my direction, even with me (completely inconspicuously) holding an abandoned newspaper that I snagged from the empty table behind me over my eyes.

Rose Weasley and I were in the same year at Hogwarts. During our time there, I had detested her and tried to plunge her into the murky depths of unpopularity, never quite succeeding. She was too nice, too smart, and too much a stereotypical Weasley child (Any Weasley was considered perfect by the public eye solely because of their part in the Second Wizarding War). I did try though, but my carefully dropped comments about her frizzy hair or supposed crush on long time enemy Scorpius Malfoy never caught on. It only succeeded in flaming my dislike of her, and Albus Potter's dislike of me. They didn't even faze her.

It was only a couple years ago, a huge ocean away from the mess of feelings of my adolescence, that I was able to become objective enough to realize I was supremely jealous of her. She had everything I wanted and had fought so hard for: natural popularity, a wonderful and accepting family, and people's respect.

Now, with her sitting within speaking distance, I was overcome with the desire to apologize, to absolve myself with at least one person. Hiding behind a newspaper may have been what I really really wanted to do, but I had grown up enough to face my mistakes head on. I was lowering the newspaper, fully intending to begin what was surely to be an awkward conversation, when I made the mistake of actually glancing at the front page. I froze, staring at the headline.

"PEMBROKE DECLARES CANIDANCY FOR MINISTER OF MAGIC"

~By Arvin Creevy

They had a picture of him, waving cheerfully as he greeted a large crowd of people. I focused in on his face, on the open and kindly expression, and my insides flipped. I couldn't look away, but I also couldn't stop my stomach from recoiling from the huge lie that stared up at me with smiling eyes.

My eyes were still glued to him when Callum returned, bearing two glasses of butterbeer.

"Sorry it took so long, there was a-" Callum noticed what I was staring at. "Oh. I was going to tell you about that." Silence filled the conversation as we both stared down at the newspaper. Finally Callum interrupted.

"Are you going to tell him that you're back?"

"No. Not now at least." My clipped tones caused Callum to drop the subject immediately, instead changing it to a discussion about some ridiculous new law the Ministry created about the regulation and management of kneazles, for which I was thankful. It allowed me to respond with minimal words and expressions and to regain my composure.

Edward Pembroke had royally screwed up his relationships with his children. He focused all his energy on me, on molding me into the perfect daughter, and he completely ignored Callum. Callum was too odd, too stubborn, and too temperamental to be the golden child, and as a result, he was always placed second. When he turned seventeen, it became apparent that father and son were strangers in everything but name, and they parted ways with little emotion or regret. I have no idea if they are even in contact.

I find it a testament to Callum's kindness that he managed to still be a good brother to me, considering the fact that our family was unceasingly cold to him and I was a spoilt brat. I used to pity him, but I am starting to realize that maybe he pitied me more. Whatever the reason, I am eternally thankful that I can depend on Callum. Speaking of which…

"I'm fine, you know." Callum looked startled that I had interrupted his riveting conversation about the weather (apparently he had run out of things to say on boring ministry laws).

"What?"

"I'm not going to break or dissolve into a puddle at the mere mention of Him. I'm back, and I knew what this would mean before I returned. It'll be awkward for a while, but people will get over it soon enough and get on with their lives. I'm not going to run off halfway around the world just because I'm a little startled. To put it simply, I'm fine." Saying it made me feel more confident than I was. He stayed silent for a moment.

"You sure?"

"Of course. Now as interesting as the weather report is, tell me what I really need to know about the gossip back in Europe, so something like this," I rapped the newspaper, "doesn't catch me off guard again." I made sure to keep my voice light and teasing, so not to worry him.

"Well." He paused for a moment in mock thought. "Fred Weasley has finally had a girlfriend for over a year." I gasped in pretend disbelief.

The next hour passed quickly as I caught up with my brother, but eventually we parted ways. He had to stop by the Auror Office, and I wanted to buy a couple things before I moved into Hogwarts tomorrow.

It was still mid afternoon, and the sun cheerfully drifted over the rooftops of Hogsmeade, mercilessly baking the population below. I rolled up my sleeves, and headed towards a nearby clothes shop. I had recently had the unpleasant realization that I had left all of my robes in England, at Kettering Manor. As I was most certainly not ready to go knocking at the door of my childhood home, I had to supply myself with an entirely new wizarding wardrobe.

I had gotten used to muggle clothing as a teacher, but I missed the comfort of robes. As I reached to pull open the door, a figure suddenly pushed it open, knocking me off balance.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry." A voice gasped next to me. A hand reached to steady my shoulder, and I looked right up into the face of Rose Weasley. We both froze. You would think with having the inner eye, I would get at least some warning for these types of things. I'm not even asking for a neon sign to flash across my brain, even just a vague premonition such as a mysterious bad feeling or ice down the spine would be nice. After a beat of awkward silence, she removed her hand from my shoulder.

"Ashley? Ashley Pembroke?" She exclaimed disbelievingly. I inclined my head at her.

"Hello Rose."

Up close, Rose looked almost exactly the same as six years ago, but more refined and elegant. Her red hair had lost some of its frizz, her face looked thinner, and she appeared more mature. She still had the same slight bump on her nose and the same arched eyebrows that would have made her seem dreamy and oblivious if they were not offset by intelligent blue eyes. I sensed a sort of glow radiating from inside of her, and she held herself with straightly. She cleared her throat.

"Back in the country then? I heard someone mention you went overseas." She sent me an awkward smile, which I returned just as stiltedly.

"That's right, I was visiting the United States." We both stood there, giving each other uncomfortable, small smiles. Finally she broke the tension again.

"I really must be off, I was supposed to meet my cousin in a couple minutes." My stomach jumped. Not Albus, not _here_, for the love of Merlin. If I possessed any remaining luck, it would not be him. "Fred, that is." She finished hesitantly. I breathed a (hopefully unnoticeable) sigh of relief.

"I won't keep you then. It was nice seeing you again." I winced at the insincerity of my sentence.

"Oh right, yeah. Everyone will be so surprised to hear you're back." I internally cringed as I plastered a completely fake expression of excitement on my face.

"Yes, yes they will be." With that grim note, we parted ways.

~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~/~~~

Author's Note: UPDATED! Success! Tell me any thoughts about the story! Sorry the wait was so long, AP tests, vicious teachers assigning last minute projects, and graduation can do that to a person :) But the next chapter will be coming loads quicker! Thanks to the lovely, beautiful, utterly wonderful person who reviewed.

Please review!

~EndlessPrattling~


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter!

***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/** */***/***/***/***/

Returning to Hogwarts awoke way too many nostalgic and wistful feelings for seven in the morning. I had been putting off visiting the castle for as long as possible, and with classes starting in a week, I needed to muster up whatever little courage I possessed and face it.

Truthfully, I was scared: scared that in the last six years, Hogwarts had altered irrevocably and I would be a stranger. But also scared that it would be exactly the same, which would be evidence itself that I hadn't changed. As paradoxically as it seemed, both feelings burbled up inside of me.

When I first stepped onto the grounds, it felt like dropping into a pensieve. It was the same quidditch pitch, the same dark shores of the Black Lake, the same castle shooting up into the sky, but it was different. Time doesn't stop, even for lost, runaway witches. Some other group of students had stood shouting and laughing as their team won the quidditch cup. A new posse of friends had probably claimed my former haunt, the giant tree next to the Black Lake, for their own. Another young witch might have stared up at the towers of Hogwarts, secretly hoping to find a home.

Professor McGonagall greeted me with a curt smile at the entrance hall and gave me directions to my room, before shooing me off to the North Tower. It had been ten years since I last traced this same path as a wee little third year. The time hadn't dulled Sir Cadogan's …charisma.

"Come back here and fight!" The portrait's obnoxious cries followed me all the step ladder, closely followed by eye rolls and groans of annoyance from the surrounding paintings. It was oddly comforting.

As I climbed out of the hole in the floor, I took a deep breath, fully preparing to have a momentous, movie-like moment of clarity where I saw the next year flash by in an inspirational swirl. Mistake. Instead I got a lung full of stale, overly perfumed air that smelled just like my Aunt Rhea's closet. I gagged and quickly took small, shallow breaths through my mouth, trying not to think of all of my brain cells I was murdering. Once I was not in danger of fainting, my eyes fell on the heavy brocade curtains that blocked oxygen's one path into the room. With a wave of my wand, I blasted them open.

Apparently, these curtains haven't been moved since the birth of Hogwarts, as a mountainous pile of dust took flight, once again causing me to double over with watery eyes. Once I stopped trying to dislodge my lungs and the dust settled, I was able to take in the view.

The north tower overhung the Black lake to one side, with the Forbidden forest creeping into view on the other. It was a bit taller than most parts of Hogwarts, which made me feel like the small classroom was drifting above the stone castle. But best of all, the sky seemed huge around me. The sunshine reached out over the grounds of Hogwarts. I breathed in quietly and was quickly reminded why I had opened the curtains. I creaked one of the windows and let gloriously fresh air flow into the room.

Once the whole issue of not-being-able-to-breathe was sorted out, I was able to finally survey my classroom.

I cringed internally.

The morning light that beautifully illuminated the grounds of Hogwarts was not quite as kind to the North Tower. It light up several of the room's more …interesting aspects. I could understand now why McGonagall had advised me to redecorate the north tower according to my personal tastes.

It remained me of a stranger, less romantic Madame Puddifoots, to where, as a student, I was a customer all too often (again, my judgment as a teenager was questionable at best). I appear to have dimmed down much of the room's eccentricities in my memories. The room was designed to imitate a fortune teller's tent in a muggle carnival. There were beads and draping fabric everywhere with the intent of making it cozy, but really just adding to the claustrophobic feeling. My desk was at the front of the room, with a large blackboard behind me. To the left was an odd collection of tea cups and glass balls on towering shelves, and in front of me spread out a random assortment of tables and cushions.

I sighed, glancing at the room's mismatched frilliness. I have no idea how anyone was ever able to focus in the room. Worst of all, the room seemed so _empty_. At one point, it held quite a lot of character. I remembered Professor Davies from my one year of lessons, and being in the lifeless tower without her fake-mysterious voice seemed wrong. All of her decorations and things cluttered the entire room, and it felt a bit like entering a mummy's tomb.

With one nostalgic glimpse, I removed my wand from my robe pocket, and began mercilessly cleaning. There was absolutely no way I was going to spend the next year stepping around my predecessor's ghost.

Dismantling the North Tower gave me a perverted sort of pleasure. Watching the room fade into something that didn't resemble a fluffy, stifling prison was very therapeutic. By the time the early morning light had stretched to shadows along the horizon, I was quite content with my new classroom.

McGonagall, or Minerva, as I had been instructed to call her, told me that dinner was served at six thirty in the Great Hall. There I would be reintroduced to the staff and officially become a teacher at Hogwarts. This would be a lot less intimidating if I hadn't have spent the entire day cleaning and didn't currently look like I had been battling a Hungarian Horntail. I glanced at the watch Cassie had given me strung around my neck. 6:25. I had a couple minutes. I straightened my robes, tried to flatten my hair, and pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.

The first thing I noticed was that the four house tables had been cleared away to make room for one large table in the middle, where many of my old professors were now sitting. A couple looked up and gave me a wave or a nod of the head. I took a seat next to a late middle aged woman with frizzy grey hair who introduced herself as Eliza Gibbons. I vaguely remembered her as the Muggle Studies professor.

Once the empty seats around the table had slowly filled, McGonagall (er, Minerva) rose.

"Welcome all of you, back to Hogwarts for another year. As many of you know, Lavender Davies was unable to return with us this year. It is with great pleasure that I introduce her successor, Miss Ashley Pembroke." She motioned for me to stand, while the rest of the teachers clapped politely. Several of my former teachers exchanged surprised glances.

After I had sat down and McGon-Minerva made the food appear, Eliza surveyed me with renewed interest. "You got quite a few surprised looks there, my dear." She spoke in a thick Scottish accent. I laughed lightly.

"Yes I suppose so. My personality didn't shine the brightest when I was a teenager." A frail, white haired woman sitting next to Eliza laughed loudly with me. "Ain't that the truth." She peeked her head around Eliza and smiled warmly at me.

"'Ello there, I'm Alma Bathurst." She was missing one of her bottom teeth, but nevertheless her grin was contagious.

"Ashley Pembroke."

"So I hear. If I believed in fate, I'd say it was that that caused you to sit here. The three of us will be living in the same complex." I blinked, somewhat surprised, and then grinned broader.

"Well then, it's nice to meet you."

"Be careful of this one, Ashley. She may not look it, but she's a doddery old fox." Eliza warned me teasingly. I surveyed Alma's bright blue twinkling eyes and nodded decisively.

"She has the mischievous look around the edges."

"She put a snake in my bed my first night here." Eliza sighed self-pityingly. "I've never been the same since."

"Oh, she exaggerates. It was one of those fake ones from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It was harmless."

"It nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"See? Exaggerating again. One of these days I fully expect you to quit and join a theater troupe. Or maybe a circus. You'd fit right in with the clowns." Alma winked at me. Eliza pointedly ignored her and turned towards me.

"I can show you to your room after dinner. The house elves should have already put your possessions there."

"Great, thanks."

"We're glad you're here. Lavender couldn't quit keep up with your kooky old selves." Alma cackled evilly.

"That's because you thought she was a pretentious fake and told her so every other day." Alma shrugged at Eliza's accusations.

"She tried to tell me that I had bad luck in love! Utter rubbish."

"You've been divorced three times."

"I take it you're a skeptic then?" I asked Alma, curious.

"That's right. No offense to you, but I like my numbers. I'm the Arithmancy teacher."

"None taken. Most people these days are."

"As long as you don't try to sway me over with ridiculous visions like someone I could mention, I think we'll get a long swimmingly." I laughed again at Alma.

"I think I can manage that."

After dinner was over, the three of us left the Great Hall. Even though Minerva had given me instructions on how to get to my room, I still let Alma and Eliza take the lead. Our rooms were located on the fourth floor, in a hidden wing behind a portrait of a medieval wizard in a tall white wig, who introduced himself as Lord Dashbury.

Alma cheerfully told him the password was "Phoenix Feather." The painting swung open to reveal a small hallway with four doors.

Eliza told me that hers was the closest one of the left, while Alma's was the room across from it. Mine was the last room on the left, and the last room was currently vacant. Eliza instructed me on how to set a password for my room, which I choose to be "Hippogriff Wings."

When the door to my room opened, I stared at the room inside with amazement. I had spent the last six years living in cheap, run down apartments, and this room seemed like heaven in comparison. The room itself was fairly small and empty, but it was comfy and cozying looking. There was a plump bed pushed to one side, with a chair and a table next to it. A decent sized window let in light. Two doors lined the wall next to me, which, on closer inspection, led to a closet and a bath. It was decorated with browns and earth colors.

"How's it look?" Alma and popped in beside me, nearly causing me to jump.

"Wonderful. Is there a spelled snake anywhere I should be looking for?"

"Nope, sorry, didn't have the right time to prepare. Next time, maybe."

"That's quite alright." I assured her. "It's strange seeing where teachers sleep. I always wondered when I went to school here." Eliza laughed from outside in the hallway.

"Surprising, isn't it? To discover your teachers actually have a life outside of their classroom? Only some of us live in the castle though. Most of them who have families apparate in every day, but the ministry requires that some adults live in the castle too. Someone needs to make sure a student doesn't burn down the school in his sleep."

"It happens more than you would think." Alma told me ominously. "Be warned."

Over the next week, I slipped into the Hogwarts routine. Every morning we would wake up, eat, and have staff meetings to discuss issues and plan classes and events. I became closer to Alma and Eliza, who I soon discovered, were both crazy. I don't think I have ever laughed so much in my life. Despite being older and somewhat frail, they both had boundless energy and enthusiasm.

I also re-met many of my old teachers. I had a lovely discussion with Neville Longbottom about Elf politics, and had many chats with my former head of house, Imogen Ramsden. I was surprised to discover how much I loved it here.

Alma and Eliza had been referring to the arrival of students as "Doomsday," although I could tell they were excited too. I spent the entire morning of September first adding the finishing touches to my lesson plans. I had discovered over the past week that Lavender Davies and I had completely opposite teaching methods. Truthfully, it was rather painful to read her notes. So far, the only redeemable quality about her was that she recorded her lesson plans with incredible clarity. Which just made every terribly thought out lesson that much more painful to read.

She had structured most of her lessons so the only way a student could pass was if they had a futuristic vision. Needless to say, her reports of their visions depicted such absurd images that it almost made reading through her torturous lesson plans worth it. I particularly liked Paul Markley's story about seeing a suspiciously familiar crazy haired woman belly dancing on the table in the Great Hall during the fourth year's crystal ball section. Scratch that. It was really just disturbing.

As time consuming and annoying as this process was, it did actually give me an idea of the attitude to expect from my students. It ranged from lazy to downright mocking. Very few students seemed actually interested in the subject, which was sad. Divination is actually incredibly interesting if taught correctly, and it helps one get better in tune with his or her magic.

As expected, I was incredibly nervous for my first lesson. I had gone over each detail multiple times, and was doing it once again when Eliza came and told me it was time to go down to the Great Hall. The students were arriving.

***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/** */***/***/***/***/

Wow. Ok, so I haven't updated this in forever because I am having a plot crisis! I know what I want to happen, but I feel like it doesn't have a lot of action or is very interesting, so please please tell me if it gets too boring. How do you like Alma and Eliza? Albus shall be coming in soon, I promise! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it is much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling!

***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/** */***/***/***/***/

The ceiling of the Great Hall revealed a clear, jet black sky with thousands of stars twinkling auspiciously down on the four empty house tables. A good night for a sorting.

I was sitting next to Professor Wilkins, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at the Staff table. He had been here for ages and was comparable to Binns in levels of boringness. He had been my teacher as well, and I still couldn't bring myself to call him anything other than Professor, which seemed to amuse him.

Even now, waiting for the students to arrive to the Welcoming Feast, I strongly suspected that he had fallen asleep. His balding head was tilted forwards, his chin was propped up against his chest, and I'm fairly certain I heard a snore coming from his direction. Currently, I was speaking with Hagrid, who was sitting on my left and enthusiastically telling me about one of his lessons. He wanted to start the year off with a surprise for his fourth years by introducing them to Thestrals.

When I had been fourteen, I had been scared out of my mind of Care of Magical Creatures. I'm not sure what I would have done if he had introduced thestrals to my class, but probably something stupid and rude. Hagrid had not been on my list of favorite teachers, but I was enjoying speaking with him now. He didn't seem to care that I had been a selfish idiot six years ago.

We heard the students long before they entered the Great Hall. Even Professor Wilkins startled awake at the loud clamoring, fuzzily scratching his head as if he had forgotten where he was.

I sat straighter in my seat as the first students trouped in, pushing past each other and laughing. Their excitement was infectious, and I caught myself grinning along with them.

"Doesn' feel so long ago that I was in me firs' year."

I nodded at Hagrid's statement. A few people were looking towards the staff table, sizing me up and trying to figure out who I had replaced. After several minutes of chaos, they eventually settled down to their seats.

The doors swung open again. Neville was leading in the group of terrified first years, who huddled around him. I could feel their magic pulsating in nervous waves as McGonagall drew out the sorting hat. His raspy voice filled the air, and I mindlessly wondered how it was fair that a hat had more musical talent than me. The first child, "Anders, Lauren," was sorted into Ravenclaw, and my former table let out a cheer. I gave a nostalgic smile as I remembered my sorting. At eleven, I was convinced that Ravenclaw was the only house worth being in. I was certain Gryffindor was full of brazen idiots and Hufflepuff full of brainless losers. Slytherins were clever and powerful, but too sneaky to be well liked. I had somewhat of a superiority complex.

I wonder what the hat would have told me about myself if I had really listened. As it was, my mind was made up long before my actual sorting. The hopeful faces of the first years made me smile, and for the first time since my own sorting, I actually paid attention while each new student tensely made his or her way to the stool. By the time "Young, Gina" was sorted into Gryffindor, I could sense the general atmosphere of impatience among the older students.

McGonagall kept her speech short, briefly introducing me as the new Divination teacher, which caused students to cast curious looks my way again. The rest of the night went quickly, with everyone stuffing themselves and then crawling to bed to fall deep into a food coma.

The next morning I woke up early and went down to the Great Hall to pretend like I wasn't nervous. Truthfully, I wasn't sure why I was. It wasn't like this was my first time teaching, or my first time dealing with students who initially didn't care.

My first class was with the fifth years, and I just planned on seeing what knowledge they had managed to suck up in their first two years of the subject. I drank my coffee, channeling a calm and composed appearance while I waited for students to trickle in. Most professors were already up, handing out schedules to students. With amusement, I noted the time students arrived directly correlated with their year. The first years had been waiting early, looking over classes and eagerly discussing them enthusiastically, while the seventh years rolled out of bed at the last possible instant, trying to hold onto the last grasps of summer.

I left the Great Hall early and headed to the North Tower. Over the last week, I had replaced the thick curtains with light, white ones that flowed in the breeze. The window remained permanently open, and I didn't intend to close it until my students were literally turning into popsicles. Even if it remained open for the next twenty years, it wouldn't be enough to completely wipe away the traces of the former Divination teachers' incense. I had taken down all the unnecessary decorations, leaving the bare minimum. The mismatched stools and eclectic tea cups still remained, but the entire room felt much larger and open.

I was able to sense the first group of students, even before I heard them on the step ladder. This meant that I was able to perfectly time it so I could observe their faces as they entered.

Watching the students' expressions as they saw the tower almost made being forcibly thrust back into the life that I have been avoiding for countless years worth it. It was even more amusing as each student had to come up the ladder one by one, and could not hide his or her reaction behind other people. Their expressions ranged from surprised, skeptical, to unbelieving. I could understand their shock. If I had been a Hogwarts student coming to my first class of Divination, it would be a little disconcerting to see the North Tower looking like anything other than a gypsy's death trap. However, they should get used to it. I will publically admit my love for Albus Potter before I allow incense back here (I quite like to breathe, thank you very much).

Watching them stare at me like confused puppies was almost as amusing as their first expression. I am aware that I am not the typical Divination teacher. I'm not old enough to emanate the kooky-crazed-cat-lady feeling. When the watch strung around my neck signaled the start of class, I rose from my seat at my desk. From my attendance books, I knew there were thirteen students in my fifth year class. I counted twelve sizing me up.

"Hello everyone, I'm Professor Pembroke. I will be taking over for Professor Davies this year, as I'm sure you've gathered." I stood straight in front of the class and took special care to sound confident and enunciate my voice. One thing I've learned from being a muggle teacher is that, magical or not, students can smell fear. On the first day you have to stand tall and tell the idiots who question your authority to stuff it (except you word it all fancily and politely so they don't really realize you are telling them to shut up until days later). Although I suppose if I were truly being honest, the origin of this learning was actually rooted in the teachings of my father. He took great care to instruct me on how to behave when in front of the paparazzi, when sucking up to adults, and when bossing around my peers. In short, demand respect.

"I'm very aware that my views on Divination probably differ greatly then Professor Davies's, but I'm sure a new perspective will be enlightening to you all." I spoke lightly and was amused to see some students exchange dubious looks. "Some back history on myself is that I graduated from Hogwarts some years ago, attended a muggle college in the United States, and taught science in a muggle high school for a while afterwards, before finally showing up here. Are there any questions you would like to ask me?"

"What happened to the North Tower?" A curly haired girl asked me unhappily from the front row. I pegged her immediately as one of Professor Davies's more devout followers.

"I redecorated." I responded drily.

"Come on, Rachel, now it doesn't look like my grandmother's attic." A blonde-haired boy with a thin nose called out teasingly from the second to last row.

"I thought it gave the room character." Rachel replied loftily back. I interrupted before my class turned into an all-out drama showdown.

"Although many seers and Divination experts find an exotic atmosphere allows for the inner eye to flourish, I reckon that in a class of novices, a distracting décor can be detrimental to the brain's ability to focus. Everyone has their preferences, but I believe a clean and simple room will be most beneficial to our needs." I sent a half smile to Rachel. She screwed up her mouth in acceptance.

"Now. If there aren't any other questions, I would like to begin today with everyone introducing themselves. Please say your name, house, and favorite Divination sub-area. If you would please start?" I gestured to Rachel in the front row. She sighed and rose.

"I'm Rachel Macmillian from Hufflepuff. My favorite part of Divination is using crystal balls." I heard a snort from the back.

"Like you can actually see anything. We all know you just make your visions up." I turned my evil eye on the boy who had spoken, a stocky boy with short brown-haired who was sitting next to thin-nosed Blondie.

"Mr.-?" I waited for him to fill in the blank.

"Wood."

"Mr. Wood, I understand you are bursting with enthusiasm, but if you would please kindly wait your turn?" I sent him a sunny smile, and he grunted in response.

Melissa Creevy was the last student to introduce herself. In the middle of her claiming she liked tea-leaf reading because you "got free refreshments," I sensed my final student meandering towards the Tower. His aura radiated off so much apathy and boredom that I was surprised he hadn't infected the entire population with his lack of enthusiasm. I glanced at my list.

"Only missing Tomas Goyle, correct?" A couple of people in the first row nodded at me. "Well, I bet he will be joining us soon enough." Blondie, who I now knew as Evan Smith (although I liked my nickname better) yelled out from the back.

"Don't hold your breath. He almost never comes to class."

"I heard he had to repeat first year!" A girl with huge eyes named Clarissa whispered loudly.

"That's enough." I made sure my voice carried. I did not need my class to turn into a thriving hive of gossip. "I'm sure Mr. Goyle will be joining us shortly." The group in the back snickered at my ignorance. Arrogant twits. One of the hardest parts off being a teacher can be not reacting. Which is why, although I was mentally cursing their egotism, my face remained blank and composed. It is also why, when Tomas Goyle pulled himself through the trapdoor two seconds later, my face didn't reveal a hint of surprise or triumph. The class got very silent for a moment, before breaking out in whispers.

"Mr. Goyle, I presume?" Tomas Goyle eyed me without curiosity. He was incredibly tall, probably six four, and very bulkily built. He nodded once, before taking a seat right by the window, slightly separated from the rest of the class. His huge form looked somewhat ridiculous squished into a faded pink armchair.

"How did you know he was there?" Alex Wood demanded.

"I could sense his magic. It is something that I will attempt to teach you this year. If you listen, you will have better control over your magic and also be able to do nifty little things like that. It makes it remarkably hard for someone to sneak up on you." I laughed lightly, while the class still eyed me skeptically.

"I've never heard of anyone doing that." Rachel looked doubtfully at me.

"Not many people bother to learn how to do it. A pity, really. Mr. Goyle?" He glanced somewhere at a point over my shoulder. "Unfortunately, you missed all the introductions of your classmates. However, I'm going to assume that after five years, you already know their names. If you would please state your name, house, and favorite area of Divination?" Tomas's face remained blank as he recited mechanically in a low, quiet voice.

"Tomas Goyle, Slytherin, no preference."

"No part of Divination calls to you?" I prompted him, hoping to wheedle him into elaborating. He shook his head.

"Well, hopefully we'll change that this year."

The rest of the class passed uneventfully. I had them working with scrying bowls, just to test what they knew. Truthfully, the results were dismal. They tried to stare into the water without clearing their mind or drawing upon their magic. They probably could have gotten better results if they had stared at a dirty puddle all day. Some, namely Tomas Goyle, didn't even bother trying. And somehow they were supposed to be OWL ready by this year….

My two classes of third year were much better though. They hadn't been tainted by low expectations or bad habits and were actually willing to learn. We had had a very fun first lesson while I attempted to teach them how vague the future could be. We had discussed the probability of flipping a sickle (and thus how much of Divination is guesswork and how much is fact) and some famously misinterpreted prophecies.

The fourth years were decent. They weren't quite the blank slates of the third years, but they showed promise. I didn't have any sixth year or seventh year classes. I suspect this is because there were not enough students who passed their OWLS, but it gave me a bit of a break.

It was during my two weeks anniversary of teaching at Hogwarts (yes, that is worthy of being celebrated) that I found out about the teacher examinations.

"Don't worry about it!" Eliza chided me at breakfast. "They force us through it every couple of years. It's a power thing really. They never fire anyone."

"It's easy! You just spit out a bunch of intelligent sounding gibberish that the nitwit examiners would never be able to comprehend, and voilà! You're free for a couple of years to actually teach your students without some stick-in-the-mud preying on your every move." Alma grinned at me, once again giving me a lovely view of her missing tooth. Had it been any other person, I would have thought she had lost it due to old age. Solely because it was Alma though, I suspected she got it knocked out in a bar fight or something.

"From what I've heard from my students, most seem to think your class is interesting and that you are a huge improvement from Davies. You'll be fine."

"I just hope they don't sit in on my fifth year class."

"They still being difficult?" Eliza shot me a sympathetic look.

"I don't think they like my crash course in meditation." For the first twenty minutes of each class, I was forcing each of my classes to practice clearing their minds and sensing magic. It didn't take long for them to discover I could sense when they fell asleep. After the first few detentions, they realized I was serious.

"They'll warm up to you soon enough."

"Let's hope so."

Luckily, when it was my turn for the inspection, the examiner happened to sit in on one of my fourth year classes. Overall, it went well. I nodded to him when I noticed him slip in at the beginning of class, but otherwise we had no interaction together.

The lesson that day was on omens. I was just introducing the topic, so today was a largely theoretical lesson. I had the students write down a list of historically "good" and "bad" omens, both muggle and magical, and then we discussed the significance of others from their books. I divided the class up to look at the different perspectives of omens. One half looked at the facts supporting that certain omens were drawn to a person's negative or positive energy. The other group took the perspective that they were superstitions that influenced a person to believe something good or bad would happen, psychologically making them more susceptible to the event the omen foretold. I had them discuss for the last twenty minutes of class. The debate started off slow, which had me worried, but soon picked up speed (thankfully). Lastly, I assigned a short essay dictating their opinion. In the end, I was happy how it had turned out.

But that didn't stop me from brooding over it for the next three days.

When McGonagall summoned me to her office, I feared the worst.

She stared at me over the rims of her glasses, making me feel small even though I towered over her desk. When my nerves had reached the very end of their stretching point, she sent me a small smile and gestured for me to take a seat.

"Thank you for coming." She sent me another smile, which actually heightened my worrying. McGonagall was not known for her sunny disposition. All this smiling had me paranoid she was luring me into a trap. Any second now she was going to tell me that I was sacked.

"Is this about the examination? Are you firing me?" The words had slipped out of my mouth before I could reel them back in. McGonagall drily surveyed me.

"This is about the examination, but I'm not sacking you today." I didn't miss the qualifier "today" stuck onto the end of her sentence. I stared at her in confusion. McGonagall sighed. "It would be easiest to start from the beginning.

"For years now the Ministry of Education and the School Board have been upset about the Divination OWLS. Few pass, and fewer pass with a decent score. Truthfully, they have been debating abolishing the subject altogether. The examiner was looking for a reason to fire you. But they couldn't find one." I stayed quiet, not sure at what she was getting.

"Now, I'm not altogether a believer, but my predecessor Albus Dumbledore ultimately decided that the subject deserved a place in Hogwarts. We are in a precarious position right now. The school board, the ministry, they all want to drop the subject. It lowers the scores of the entire school. They have given me an ultimatum." McGonagall looked sour at the thought that they had any control at all over the school. "The subject will not be dropped on the condition that every single one of your students pass their Divination OWL." I stared at her.

"But that's… that's insane!" I burst out, my voice rushed and high pitched. "These students, they barely have any training in the subject, if I'm being honest. And to get every single one of them to pass? They must know how difficult that would be, even if they were properly taught."

"They do." McGonagall's voice was quiet. "That's why they chose this deal. They don't want you to succeed." I could feel my anger level rocketing up. "Ashley, I will completely understand if you want to resign now. This is an unfair task, and it is up to you to decide if you want to go through with it. I can't guarantee you will have a job at the end of the year." We both remained silent for a couple of minutes, before I softly broke in, my anger somewhat deflated.

"Well, I was never certain how long I was going to stay. I might have left at the end of the year anyway. But I'm not ready to give up here. Whether they know it or not, Divination is an important subject. I'm not sure if I can guarantee all thirteen students will pass, but I can say that we will put in a damn good effort." McGonagall nodded, and I could see a hint of pride in her eyes.

"I was hoping you would say that. As unfair as your position is, you _are_ lucky for the opportunity to prove yourself. They could have fired you just to assert their power. Not everyone was fortunate enough to keep their job. I wish you all the luck this year." I rose at that obvious dismissal, wondering what she meant.

I found out two days later. The staff were all gathered in the conference room on the third floor, having our weekly Friday meeting. We discussed all the normal topics (the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes product ban, detention, patrols, etc.). At the end of the meeting, McGonagall rose.

"I have some unfortunate news to tell you. George Wilkins has been asked to step down from his position as the teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts, following the teacher examinations." McGonagall looked sour again, and there was a sudden cry of voices. Alma and Eliza looked outraged next to me. I blinked in surprise. Everyone's eyes shot to where Professor Wilkins was reclined in his chair. He raised his hand to quiet everybody.

"It's high time I retire anyway. I've been here for too long as it is. If anybody had to go, I'm glad it's me." His raspy voice spilled over the classroom. "It's time to make room for some new, younger blood." As horrible as I felt (Professor Wilkins had been here for as long as I could remember), a small part of me couldn't help but agree. McGonagall interrupted.

"The ministry has traditionally taken a backseat role in the management of Hogwarts. With this dismissal, it appears things are about to change. Arvin Jamison was recently elected as the new education executive, and it seems he means to bring about a new order. One that, I can assure you, is entirely unappreciated and unneeded." Alma banged the table next to me in agreement.

"He offered to hire a new DADA teacher for us, but I kindly told him to save the effort." McGonagall's Scottish accent became noticeably stronger as her indignation grew. "For the last two days I have been searching for a candidate that would satisfy us both. I believe I have finally found one. Starting with next week, our new DADA teacher will be Albus Potter."

I stared at her in horror, as my world flipped.

***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/***/** */***/***/***/***/

Yay! And the plot is officially here! What do you think about it so far? Thank you to everyone who is reading my story (and a HUGE extra thanks to those who review).


End file.
